


Life is Hard and the Living Rough

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Getting Together, Human Disaster Keith Kogane, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Slightly Canon-Divergent, minor Galra Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9835409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: “Okay, real talk, why the quiznack is it that whenever I go on epic side adventures with Hunk we have fun, meet gorgeous aliens, liberate mer-people and only have like, one or two near-death experiences and the ONE TIME I’m out here with the two of you everything is awful and we’re almost dying pretty much the entire time?”Lance and Keith stranded on a dead planet.  Oh and Shiro's there too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in a vaguely future world where Shiro's back from wherever he went at the end of season 2, and everyone knows Keith's part Galra and is okay with it.
> 
> This was definitely inspired by how EVERY SINGLE TIME Keith and Shiro go on a side-trip together in season 2 SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENS (and what's up with how often Keith gets thrown into space?) Also, I really wanted a fic where Lance had a chance to shine as a paladin and a teammate. (see, I can write something other than AUs...sometimes...)
> 
> Warning for unsafe emergency medical practices. Don't cauterize your own wounds or your friends' wounds, kids! (unless circumstances are really dire and you have to)

**Life is Hard and the Living Rough**

            “Okay, real talk, why the quiznack is it that whenever I go on epic side adventures with Hunk we have fun, meet gorgeous aliens, liberate mer-people and only have like, one or two near-death experiences and the ONE TIME I’m out here with the two of you everything is awful and we’re almost dying pretty much the entire time?” Lance is aware he’s babbling. He’s also aware that he’s been wearing his armor for way too long, that his palms are sweating around his bayard and everything actually is _awful._

            Keith is unimpressed with his rant. He’s also bleeding out a little so the slight is forgivable. One hand is clamped over his side, which is steadily oozing blood – it’s red, why is it red? Isn’t Keith part-alien? Lance kind of expected him to bleed purple or something. Which is really dumb, but this whole situation is dumb, so there’s that. He also doesn’t expect Keith to tap his scary alien knife against Lance’s helmet irritably but that’s what’s happening.

            “What?”

            “Shoot my knife.”

            “ _What_?”

            “Shoot. The. Knife’s blade.” Keith sets it on a rock (a grey rock, just like all the other grey rocks all around them. Trust Keith to find a wasteland planet); bracing it on the stone with his free hand clamped around the grip.

            “What if I shoot your hand? And why am I shooting your knife? Is this some kind of weird rejecting-your-heritage thing? Because THIS IS NOT THE TIME, KEITH.”

            Keith makes a sad little pain sound and physically flinches like he didn’t mean to do that. “Lance. Shoot the fucking knife, I need to cauterize this wound so I don’t die.”

            “Okay, shooting knife,” Lance is still babbling but he does what Keith asks, trying not to feel proud of how Keith just stands there and lets him, not making one comment about how Lance could easily shoot his hand off like this. Talk about a vote of confidence. It’s weirdly inspiring.

            “Okay, now you have to help me with this.”

            “No, what, why?”

            Keith grimaces, “Because Shiro’s unconscious and I can’t see what I’m doing. Just, take the flat of the blade and press it over the wound.”

            Lance wants to throw up. Or pass out. Or throw up then pass out. But he takes the knife when Keith offers it. The blade is glowing white-hot, the edges tinted purple. It’s disturbing to see. The grip hums under his hand like a swarm of angry bees dancing to bad electronica music.

            He doesn’t think it likes him much.

            “What if I hurt you?” he asks like an idiot.

            Keith stares at him, face pale, breathing tight and regulated, fingers clenched over the wound, red in places red shouldn’t be. “Can’t get much worse than this.”

            Wow. What a vote of confidence.

            It turns out human flesh smells like cooking meat when you cauterize it. Keith doesn’t scream, just makes a strangled pain-sound and when Lance pulls the heated blade off the wound, tossing it away in a single jerky, horrified motion, the red paladin slumps, thudding into his chest and hanging there, limp.

            His face fits really nicely in the curve where Lance’s neck meets his shoulder, even with the helmet.

            “We should talk to Allura about how these suits’ super-fabric doesn’t really protect against stab wounds,” Lance says nonsensically.

            Keith coughs in response, “It’s like Kevlar.”

            “Well Kevlar is dumb.”

            “Kevlar is bullet-proof, moron.”

            “Yeah, but what if someone brought a knife to a gun fight? It’s dumb if you think about it.”

            “You’re an idiot,” Keith’s voice is fading in and out like a bad radio signal. He’s heavier on Lance’s shoulder than he looks, must be all that muscle and bad attitude. Lance wonders if Galra bones are denser than human. He wonders if now is an appropriate time to mention that Keith’s skin flushed lavender when the shrapnel got him, when Lance cauterized the wound.

            Probably not.

            “Can you walk?” he asks instead.

            Keith makes a vaguely affirmative sound, but he sways when he pushes himself upright.

            “Do you need me to carry you?” Lance asks as Keith tries to take a step forward to retrieve his knife and nearly falls over. He gets it, but there are some tense moments where he looks like he’s about to topple.

            “It’s cute you think you could.”

            “I could so carry your skinny ass,” Lance protests. The bickering seems to be helping, seems to be taking Keith’s attention off of the probably-excruciating pain of each step.

            “Uh-huh.”

            “Come on, at least let me help you.”

            “No.”

            “Fine, be an idiot, fall on your face.”

            He really wasn’t expecting Keith to _actually fall on his stupid face._

            “Keith! Holy _quiznack_ , you are so _stupid_.”

            Keith struggles to push himself to his feet and Lance nearly has a conniption.

            “Just – ugh – let me help you,” he manages to get a shoulder under Keith’s arm on his good side and get the both of them kind of upright, “Are you this terrible with Shiro? Are you the reason Shiro has grey hairs?”

            “That would be the aliens,” Keith rasps, then pauses, apparently struck with a sudden thought, “Whoa. I’m an alien.” And then he’s laughing; strange little coughing laughs and it’s simultaneously the saddest and cutest thing Lance has seen in a long time. “Maybe it was me.”

            “That’s not how reality works, man.” Lance takes a step forward for them; still supporting Keith’s weight and Keith follows, still wheezing weak little laughs.

            “It’s so funny, though.’

            “It’s really…not…” Lance is scared, okay? Keith’s obviously not in his right mind, Shiro’s back in the cave unconscious and they’re stuck on this desolate wasteland. This was supposed to be easy, basically a milk run. And pit stop for supplies. But what Allura and Coran remembered as a thriving colony planet is nothing more than a space rock now with several well-placed batteries of automated Galra-tech weapons. One shot from one of those canons and their shuttle was going down. Now they’re stranded and by some horrible twist of fate Lance is the only able-bodied person left on this rock.

            They get back to the cave and Shiro and the shell of their craft. They’d pulled Shiro free and tried to make him as comfortable as possible, leaned up a smooth stone. Lance gets Keith settled beside their leader. Keith’s face is ashen, purple staining his skin. “I’ll be fine soon. I heal quickly,” he mutters groggily.

            “That’s cool, buddy,” Lance says, for lack of anything better to say.

            Keith watches him through slitted eyes as Lance fusses at him and Shiro, trying to make them comfortable.

            “You’re very strange,” Keith says slowly, like this is just now coming to him.

            “Wow, not up to your usual insult standards, Mullet. I’ve come to expect better from you.”

            “Not an insult. Just an…” he sighs, “…observation. You care too much.”

            Lance pauses, looking at Keith over Shiro’s unconscious body, “What?”

            “You care…too much. That’s how you get hurt, you know. Not healthy. I should...I should know.” Keith seems weirdly troubled by this perceived fault of Lance’s.

            “Listen, buddy,” he begins, a little miffed, “I get you’re like half-dead so I’m ready to let this slide, but seriously?”

            Keith has the audacity to smile at him, “I…I don’t want you to stop caring…it’s…nice…that someone cares that much…about everything.”

            Lance is pretty sure he’s blushing so he turns away to fuss with what they could salvage from the control console, trying to figure out if there’s anything left of the communications equipment. “I’m not the only one who cares, you know. We all do, about everything. Hunk’s basically a marshmallow ray of sunshine and Pidge is really passionate and Shiro’s really dedicated and then there’s Coran and Allura…I’m not…special or anything.”

            “Yeah…you are.”

            Lance glances over his shoulder to see Keith staring at him, eyes all the way open, burning into him like he’s trying to beam a message directly to him through the power of his stare alone. “Huh?”

            “Hunk…keeps us…grounded. Pidge…keeps us…striving. Shiro…believes in us…Allura…believes in the cause…Coran…keeps us thinking…you…keep us…human.” A wry smile spasms across Keith’s face, “Bad choice of words, but.”

            Lance shakes his head mutely, he doesn’t understand.

            Keith coughs, then winces, “Why do people cough when they’re dying in movies?” he muses, “Seems dumb. Nothing wrong with my lungs…”

            “You aren’t dying,” Lance snaps and turns back to the console. The Galra shot tore open the side of the ship, he’s standing in the cockpit and he has a direct line of sight to Keith and Shiro on the ground.

            “Shiro’s still breathing. That’s good,” Keith says nonsensically, “He’s my only family…left. He needs to…stay.”

            “Hey, maybe your mom’s out there somewhere?” Lance offers awkwardly, “Maybe she’s been looking for you?”

            Keith shakes his head with sudden violence, making a strained sound as he pulls on something inside him. “I don’t…wanna know.”

            “But what if she’s looking for you? What if she’s been missing you all this time? What if…what if all she wants is to see her son again? What about that, huh? You can’t just assume she’s evil because she’s a Galra. People aren’t their country. Or their psycho emperor.”

            “She left me,” Keith says tightly, voice full of pain, “I don’t care where I came from.”

            “That’s crap.”

            “That’s the way it is. I can’t care about her. I stopped a long time ago…I can’t just…start again.”

            That makes something sick and painful twist in Lance’s chest. “Keith…”

            Keith chuckles, “That’s what I mean. You care. You care…if my alien mom misses me. That’s so…it makes…no sense.” The last words are barely a whisper.

            Something’s burning in Lance’s chest, in his eyes, in the back of his throat. He turns back to the console with renewed determination. He doesn’t get what Keith’s talking about. Heck, Keith’s delirious. _Keith_ doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But Lance has to do _something_ ; he has to repay this weird faith Keith has in him. Keith, his rival, the guy everyone wanted to be in school, the guy he didn’t see _smile_ until they were in _space_ on an _alien planet_ for quiznack’s sake, the guy who was always the best but never seemed to be a part of anything…he apparently sees something special in Lance the screw-up, Lance the cargo pilot, Lance the…just Lance.

            Lance can’t let him die on an uninhabited rock in the middle of nowhere.

            He’s going to make the communications on this stupid lump of metal work if it kills him.

…

            Coran’s voice has never sounded so beautiful as it does crackling over the speakers, saying “Lance my boy, are you all right? We’ve lost your signal, where are you, what’s happening?”

            “We crashed, there’s nothing here, the Galra used it all up; there’s just some automated defenses. Coran, Keith’s hurt and Shiro’s unconscious, we need help.”

            “Hey, buddy,” and there’s Hunk’s voice, warm and reassuring on the other end of the line, “I’m taking my lion down to pick you up, okay? Yellow’s pretty big, should be enough room for all of you.”

            “We’ll be right here, dude, we aren’t going anywhere.”  

…

            Shiro is out of his pod in half a day, concussion entirely healed, but still a little unsteady on his feet. One of the first things he says after Allura helps him over to a chair, the rest of the paladins (minus Keith, he’s still in suspended animation, healing, and Lance is _fine_ , he’s not spending hours monitoring his pod, that would be _weird…_ Hunk had to pick him up and cart him to his own room last night because he was threatening to sleep in the pod room) is, “Keith and I really need to stop taking side trips together. It always seems to end badly,” he chuckles but the lines around his eyes tell a different story. He’s already scanned the group, the way he does every morning at breakfast, like he’s counting them off, making sure all his ducklings are accounted for. He knows his little brother isn’t there.

            “Keith is expected to recover,” Allura explains gently, “But he’s probably going to be in the pod for another day or so.”

            Shiro nods grimly; then turns to Lance, “Lance.”

            Oh god, here comes the lecture. Lance has spent the past twenty-four hours trying to figure out how what happened was his fault because it had to be, right? There had to be some reason both Shiro and Keith were hurt and the only explanation is that Lance did something wrong, but what? He’s been wracking his brains and he can’t figure out what he could have done different, what he did wrong.

            He swallows, “Yeah?”

            “Good work.”

            What. The. Quiznack.

            “You were the only able-bodied crew member left, weren’t you? Good job getting us both to safety and signaling for help. We would have been in a lot of trouble if it weren’t for your clear thinking.”

            “Uh, I get you were unconscious and didn’t hear my pathetic babbling, but I assure you, it was a thing that happened.”

            “But you got us home. Good job. I’m proud of you.”

            Lance is pretty sure he didn’t deserve that praise or that hug, but he’s gonna take it anyway, especially since Allura is echoing Shiro’s sentiments and Coran is thumping him on the back and talking animatedly about some heroic epic from back home on Altea and Pidge and Hunk are grinning at him like he did something right for once.

            He still misses Keith, though.

…

            The first thing Keith says when he falls out of the cryopod (directly into Lance’s lap – it’s late at night and Lance couldn’t sleep so he’s just kind of drowsily hanging out by Keith’s pod when suddenly it whooshes open and he has a lapful of half-conscious paladin – he definitely does _not_ shriek like a kindergartener, shut up Keith) is “Shit, can I just be shoved into space again next time?”

            Lance is trying not to hyperventilate. It’s not every day you have a dear half-dead friend fall on you from above.

            Keith frowns at him, “What’s wrong with you?”

            “ _Keith_ , you are the _worst_.”

            Keith looks unimpressed and rolls to his feet in one smooth motion like a _jerk_. He does kind of wobble once he’s upright, though, so at least he’s not inhumanly perfect or anything. (Actually, about that…Lance almost snickers but restrains himself, now is not the time for alien jokes)

            “Hey, help me up,” Lance holds out a hand to him.

            Keith raises an eyebrow, “Who just emerged from a medically induced coma here?”

            “Yeah, but I’m on the floor and you’re standing,” Lance waves the hand at him, “Help me up.”

            Keith rolls his eyes but to Lance’s surprise, actually takes his hand and hauls him to his feet. They must have misjudged the distance though; because once Lance is standing they’re very close, almost nose-to-nose. Despite having bragged extensively about the two inches of height he has on Keith, Lance really doesn’t notice the difference much. He notices now. Their eyes aren’t quite level like this, but it’s close. He can feel the heat radiating off of Keith, despite having just been frozen like a tv dinner just minutes ago. Keith’s always run warm, though. Lance wonders if it’s the fire-lion thing or just being half alien. He wonders if his hand feels cold in Keith’s.

            “Hi,” Lance says, because he can’t think of anything else and hey, his heartbeat is really loud in his ears right now.

            Keith is staring at him really intently like the secrets to the universe are written on Lance’s forehead. He hasn’t let go of Lance’s hand.

            “You…” Keith frowns, studying Lance like there’s going to be a pop quiz or something, “Thank you,” he finally settles on.

            “No problem…”

They’re still standing way too close, though, and still kind of holding hands. It’s simultaneously just as weird as it sounds and not that bad.

Lance could say a lot of things right now. _‘I thought you were going to die.’ ‘I was scared; I was so quiznacking scared.’ ‘So our entire relationship kind of flashed before my eyes during the I-thought-you-were-dying bit and I kind of realized there are a lot of things I’ve never said to you like ‘hey, I don’t actually hate you l really like you a lot, like a lot-a lot’ so do you want to talk and maybe make out sometime?’ ‘Your lion is red, mine is blue, I have an unfortunate amount of feelings for you.’_

Maybe not that last one.

Maybe not any of them, since they’re just standing there staring at each other silently and these kinds of moments seem a lot less weird in sappy romance movies when there’s a soaring soundtrack to cover the amount of awkward distilled in this moment.

Keith’s lips press together. “So. Yeah. Thanks for not letting me die.” And he _shakes Lance’s hand_ like they haven’t just been standing around hold hands silently for at least a minute and starts to walk away.

Lance’s heart spasms somewhere in the general vicinity of his throat. _That’s not where hearts go,_ he thinks vaguely, before he’s blurting out, “Hey, you!”

Keith turns his way, tipping his head to the side curiously. He’s kind of disheveled from his cryo-pod stay, hair all rumpled, eyes wide. “What?”

Lance has nothing. Nothing but the way his heart is squeezing where it’s apparently escaped to his throat. “I don’t hate you.”

Keith snorts, “Good to know.”

            “I…anti-hate you.”

            Keith raises a skeptical eyebrow.

            “The opposite of hate, that’s how I feel about you,” and oh god, Lance is doing hand gestures to illustrate this trainwreck. He needs to stop. He’s not stopping. Why has no one interrupted them yet? This seems like the perfect moment for a comedic interruption. Come on, where was Coran’s absolute lack of personal space when you need it?

            “The…opposite of hate?” Keith looks really skeptical now and Lance just wants to spontaneously combust.

            “Ye-es.”

            “Well that’s, uh, nice, Lance. Good to know you…anti-hate me.”

            Is Keith being obtuse on purpose or is Lance just that much of a communication failure? There’s a good chance both are true.

            “I, ugh, um. Okay. So when we were stranded and you were dying, but not dying because I’m not letting you die on me, ever, okay? No dying, we’re gonna to live forever, just, we’re gonna be young and beautiful for all eternity. I was so fucking scared, Keith. And you’re just, like, ‘whatever, it’s an alien planet and I’m bleeding out, here, have my creepy family heirloom knife and _burn my side shut for me_.’ And that was _terrifying_ , and you were just like ‘I trust you’ about _everything_ and that is _so dumb._ No one trusts me like that, FOR GOOD REASON. And you’re just… _you_ , all the time. You make me want to be better at everything. I want to be the Lance you apparently know, because he seems like a pretty cool guy. You made me think that maybe we could get out of there.” He clears his throat, “So, do you maybe want to…get food sometime? In a date-like manner?”

            Keith’s face cycles through a series of complex emotions, the identity of which only about half of which could Lance even begin to hazard a guess at, finally settling on a soft smile. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

            Lance grins and bounces over to stand next to him, taking his hand again, despite Keith’s soft sound of surprise, “Come on, you’re probably starving, there’s some leftovers in the kitchen.”

            “We’re going now?”

            “Well yeah, why not?”

            Keith chuckles and shakes his head, “Why not?”

            His hand is warm.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'I'll Be Waiting' by Walk the Earth


End file.
